The Visit
by Frodo Baggins of Bag End
Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo reluctantly consents to visit Legolas's home...but the planned excursion goes horribly wrong when Frodo becomes ill along the way. Appearances by Radagast, Thranduil, and others, including an OC female elven healer (who is NOT Tauriel).
1. Chapter 1: A Visit Gone Wrong

Title: The Visit

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/FBoBE/"Febobe")

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Radagast, various others in cameos or secondary roles, including Samwise, Gandalf, Legolas, Thranduil, OC female elven healer (Aduial).

Rating: T for painful and vivid PTSD symptoms as well as memories of violence. Follows FrodoHealers standards - no sexual content, no slashiness, no profanity.

Warnings: Some angst and medical detail. No profanity or sexual content, slash or het. May include memories of violence. No character death or suicidal ideation.

Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo reluctantly consents to visit Legolas's home...but the planned excursion goes horribly wrong when Frodo becomes ill along the way. Appearances by Radagast, Thranduil, and others, including an OC female elven healer (who is NOT Tauriel).

Feedback: Reviews are welcome, but (a) no flaming, please – flames will be used to warm Frodo's chilled body, and (b) I do this as a hobby, for pleasure, so before you take me to task about whether something "isn't canon" or "doesn't feel thematic" or how I left out a comma in paragraph 7 or made a typo in paragraph 3, please ask yourself whether that's really helpful. I'm not interested in being a canon purist or perfect – if I were, I wouldn't write this kind of thing; I'd just leave Frodo alone. In short – if you want to tell me you liked it, by all means, tell me, but if you just want to tell me how much better you would write Frodo, then go write your own stories with Frodo. (And if they're Frodo h/c, and suitable, by all means submit them to FrodoHealers. 😉 We could use some activity over there!)

Story Notes: If you didn't like Radagast in the Peter Jackson Hobbit films, you probably won't like him here. You have been warned! ;)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact Febobe.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as (but not limited to) Lossmeril, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom. No slash is intended or implied in this story.

THE VISIT

Chapter 1: A Visit Goes Wrong

Frodo shivered as he trailed along beside Sam, his head aching miserably. They were behind Merry and Pippin, who were talking animatedly with Legolas. He almost regretted agreeing to come and visit King Thranduil before going home; it had been a decision made in some haste, and now he felt sorry for impulsively agreeing that they should go. Legolas had only coaxed him by promising that Lady Galadriel had cleansed the wood, and that he and Gandalf and Gimli would be more than happy to deal with any - stragglers, as he had so euphemistically put it. Frodo shuddered and hoped there would be no stragglers. The place still did not feel entirely wholesome, though perhaps it was better nearer to the wood-elves' home. But at least it did not look as bad as the Mirkwood of Bilbo's tales.

"Are you all right, Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam in a low voice. "You're awful quiet."

"I don't really have much to say. That's all." In truth, it was not exactly all. Frodo's throat felt scratchy and sore, and talking only made it feel worse. He wondered whether he was perhaps coming down with a cold. A fine time for it. Travelling was tiring enough without a stuffy nose and a sore throat.

Soon enough they reached a glen, and there Legolas stopped.

"It is rather some distance still before we reach my home," he said, "but we are less than a day away."

"Will we have to camp in the woods tonight?" asked Frodo, shivering. He had hoped that they would reach shelter sooner, but he dared not hope too much.

Legolas gave him a close look. "I think that we can reach my father's halls by night-fall," he said, "barring any unexpected events. But I am concerned for you. Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," said Frodo, but without thinking he sniffled, causing everyone to turn and look at him.

"You don't seem fine," declared Sam, lifting a hand to touch Frodo's forehead. "There now - you're taking fever, unless I miss my guess, Master."

Gandalf was at Frodo's side in an instant, touching Frodo's brow as well. He frowned. "How are you feeling?"

"My throat hurts," Frodo admitted at last. "And my head aches. I think I'm catching cold."

Gandalf looked at Legolas. "It will take us some hours to reach Thranduil's halls," he said. "But it would take us less time to reach Rhosgobel, don't you think?"

Legolas nodded. "I can go on ahead, if you like," he said, "and take some of our party along. Father can send back an escort. Frodo would fare better with us, I think, but I agree that he must have shelter sooner rather than later."

"I do not know that Frodo ought to be walking until he is better," said Merry. "He's not been the same since - everything. We ought to be careful."

"Father can send a litter," said Legolas. "He would not even have to sit up, and the weather is warm. With furs to comfort him, it should not be too unpleasant a journey."

"I agree," said Gandalf. "But Radagast may be able to provide some help in the meantime." He stretched out his arms and crouched. "Come, Frodo. I shall carry you to Rhosgobel."

"I couldn't let you," insisted Frodo, sniffling and fidgeting for a pocket-handkerchief, which Sam produced for him.

"And why not?" asked Gandalf gently.

"You're - you're - well, *old*," said Frodo. "I ought to be helping *you*."

Gandalf threw back his head and laughed, a merry sound in a place still too quiet for Frodo's taste. "Frodo, I do not feel the pains of walking long upon the earth as I did when I was Gandalf the Grey. Let me carry you. You can put your arms round my neck, and I shall support you with one arm, and use the other to steady us with my staff."

"What about - you know?" asked Frodo, reluctantly slipping his arms and legs around Gandalf, who gathered him up with ease. "What if we are attacked?"

"We can stay together as far as Rhosgobel," said Legolas, "and there you should be safe. I cannot imagine the orc or spider to stand against *two* wizards at once."

"I hope you're right," said Frodo, and sniffled. His head felt heavy, and he longed to lay it against Gandalf's shoulder. And somehow Gandalf seemed to divine his thoughts.

"Legolas," he said suddenly, "why don't you take my staff? That will leave both arms free to carry Frodo, and I think he may need the help now."

Legolas took Gandalf's staff, and the wizard eased Frodo down a little, allowing the hobbit's head to rest against Gandalf's chest.

"There you are, my friend," Gandalf said softly. "Rest as well as you can, and soon we shall find hearth and bed for you, and something hot to drink."

"Thank you," said Frodo, closing his eyes. It felt a little warmer resting against Gandalf, but still he felt chilly, and his limbs and back were beginning to ache, not only his head. He wished for nothing more than bed.

Why, he wondered, didn't I stay in Minas Tirith, or Rohan? Why did I agree to come?

#

They walked and walked, stopping now and then to rest for a few minutes. When they stopped, Gandalf would set Frodo down, and Sam would encourage him to drink a little water, and try to get him to eat a little dried fruit or a slip of cured meat, but Frodo only shook his head; his throat felt too sore. His nose felt stuffy, too, and blowing it seemed of no avail. His head felt heavy with the ache in it. He thought of Bilbo's tale of Radagast, the strange wizard, and his sled pulled by large rabbits. What would Rhosgobel be like, he wondered?

Within another hour, they came in sight of a cottage which looked at once perfect and entirely out of place. It seemed to fit perfectly, a little cottage in the wood, and yet there was something odd about it, though Frodo could not have said what. It seemed perhaps that it had grown out of the forest floor, though that could not be possible - or was it? Radagast *was* a wizard, Frodo reminded himself, if a rather strange one. In any event, there was smoke rising from the chimney, and that was some comfort. He had hoped there would be a fire going.

"Let us wait to see whether Radagast is home," said Legolas, "and whether he will help. If he will take you in, Gimli and I can go ahead, and Merry and Pippin can come with us."

"I don't want to leave Frodo," insisted Pippin.

"Nor do I," said Merry.

Legolas smiled. "I know, my friends," he said, "but Radagast has one cottage, and if Frodo, Sam, and Gandalf stay, then it will be a full house indeed. My father's people will show you great hospitality, and soon enough they will bring Frodo."

"Go with him," Frodo said. "I'll be all right."

"Indeed," said Gandalf, "but let us first make certain that he is here!" Balancing Frodo on his hip with one arm, he raised his fist and knocked loudly upon the door. "Radagast, my friend!" he called. "I have someone here in need of your aid."

There was no answer at first, but then came a rustling sound from inside, as of robes brushing the floor, or leaves. Suddenly the door opened with a POP!, and a bedraggled-looking figure peered out. He had long grey hair, like Gandalf, and a wrinkled face, and in it were set two merry brown eyes. At the sight of Gandalf, he flung the door wide and stepped back.

"Gandalf!" he cried. "And what have we here? A little rabbit, come in search of Radagast's help?"

"Not quite a rabbit," said Gandalf, stepping inside, "but a hobbit. The Ring-bearer himself; I believe you have had word from Lady Galadriel of his deeds."

"Ah! ah! the Ring-bearer!" cried Radagast, and reached out his arms. "Let me see. What troubles you, little one, and do you have a name, or shall I call you Ring-bearer instead?"

Frodo shuddered. He still found the use of the name painful, though he could not bear to say so to Gandalf. "I am Frodo," he said, "and I believe my uncle met you once. Bilbo Baggins, who travelled with Thorin and his company of dwarves many years ago."

"Oh, yes, Bilbo! Funny little fellow, quite out of place," said Radagast, gathering Frodo into his arms gently. "There now, little one. Tell old Radagast what is the matter."

"I feel chilly," said Frodo as Radagast set him upon a work-table, so high up that his legs dangled a long way above the floor, "and my head and body ache. And my throat hurts." He sniffled, dabbing at his nose with his pocket-handkerchief.

"And the snuffles, too, I see! Well, well!" Radagast peered at him, ignoring the others as they crowded inside. He laid a hand to Frodo's brow and tsked loudly. "Feverish, yes. Open your mouth and say 'Ahh,' lad."

Frodo complied. More tsking ensued. Radagast took Frodo's wrist between his fingers, waited for a moment, then shook his head and turned to Gandalf.

"I had better put this little fellow to bed at once; he's sickening for something. Perhaps a cold. More likely pneumonia. I can give him herbs to comfort him, but - where were the lot of you going, here in these woods?" Suddenly he noticed Legolas. "Ah, the prince! Perhaps you were headed to your home, with guests?"

"Indeed," said Legolas, "and some of us at least will go on, though I believe Sam wishes to stay with Frodo and Gandalf. He is Frodo's devoted companion, and will do all he can to help you. My father will no doubt send back a party with a litter."

Radagast snorted. "I can manage him here," he said, "and they are most welcome in my house. But I will not deny that this little one might fare better with elven-folk. I sense he has taken great hurt, and that shadows him even now, though he be considered healed by many." He turned back to Frodo. "You will rest here," he said, "in bed, for a while. At least until tomorrow, for there will not be time to send a party back before dark, and I think you had better not travel farther today, litter or no. But don't I recall Gandalf saying hobbits are most fond of mushrooms?"

"We are," said Frodo, "though I am not hungry, nor do I feel like eating with my throat thus. Sam may feel otherwise, though, and Gandalf too."

"You may feel a little differently after I give you some medicine," said Radagast, and bowed to Legolas. "A pleasure to see you again, young prince! Give my regards to your worthy father."

Legolas bowed, and nodded to Gandalf. "Some of my people will return, and likely I with them," he said. "Come, Merry, Pippin, Gimli - we must hurry."

Merry and Pippin said their good-byes and followed, and Gimli as well, leaving Frodo alone with Radagast, Sam, and Gandalf.

-to be continued-


	2. Chapter 2: Settling In

Title: The Visit

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/FBoBE/"Febobe")

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Radagast, various others in cameos or secondary roles, including Samwise, Gandalf, Legolas, Thranduil, OC female elven healer (Aduial).

Rating: T for painful and vivid PTSD symptoms as well as memories of violence. Follows FrodoHealers standards - no sexual content, no slashiness, no profanity.

Warnings: Some angst and medical detail. No profanity or sexual content, slash or het. May include memories of violence. No character death or suicidal ideation.

Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo reluctantly consents to visit Legolas's home...but the planned excursion goes horribly wrong when Frodo becomes ill along the way. Appearances by Radagast, Thranduil, and others, including an OC female elven healer (who is NOT Tauriel).

Feedback: Reviews are welcome, but (a) no flaming, please – flames will be used to warm Frodo's chilled body, and (b) I do this as a hobby, for pleasure, so before you take me to task about whether something "isn't canon" or "doesn't feel thematic" or how I left out a comma in paragraph 7 or made a typo in paragraph 3, please ask yourself whether that's really helpful. I'm not interested in being a canon purist or perfect – if I were, I wouldn't write this kind of thing; I'd just leave Frodo alone. In short – if you want to tell me you liked it, by all means, tell me, but if you just want to tell me how much better you would write Frodo, then go write your own stories with Frodo. (And if they're Frodo h/c, and suitable, by all means submit them to FrodoHealers. 😉 We could use some activity over there!)

Story Notes: If you didn't like Radagast in the Peter Jackson Hobbit films, you probably won't like him here. You have been warned! ;)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact Febobe.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as (but not limited to) Lossmeril, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom. No slash is intended or implied in this story.

THE VISIT

Chapter 2: Settling In

"Let me get you into bed, little friend," said Radagast, lifting Frodo in his arms and cradling him close. "And then I shall prepare your medicines - and after that, supper."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but if you need any help with cooking, I can lend my hands," said Sam. "Seeing as how you're trying to help Mr. Frodo."

Radagast smiled as he carried Frodo to an alcove set back from the main area, where a great bed stood, covered by an unevenly pattered patchwork quilt and enormous feather-pillows. "I hear you are quite the cook, or so Lady Galadriel tells me," he said, easing Frodo gingerly down onto the bed.

Sam turned red, but he grinned. "I do my best, sir," he said, "and Mr. Frodo seems to like it well enough. Mr. Gandalf did, too, I reckon - didn't you, sir?"

"Sam is a fine cook," said Gandalf. "And I could lend a hand as well."

"I've a large basket of mushrooms, all kinds, over by my work-table there," said Radagast, beginning to help Frodo out of his travelling-clothes. "If you like, you can clean them and cut them into bite-sized pieces. I'll come and do something with them once I've gotten young Frodo settled and dosed."

Frodo felt too achy and weary to protest. Radagast had been very gentle, and his touch was soothing - not like that of an elf so much as that of Gandalf, and yet that in itself was a great comfort. It reminded him of when he had been young and quite ill at Bag End, and Gandalf had humoured him with stories and tried to make him feel better. Only Radagast seemed to know more what he was doing, like an actual healer - which, perhaps, he might be. Gandalf had said that Radagast was fond of plants and animals.

Radagast returned to Frodo's pack where it lay abandoned and rummaged a bit, pulling out Frodo's night-shirt at last. He held it up and studied it. "I had forgotten that hobbits are so small," he said. "Rather like rabbits after all, aren't they?"

Frodo could not help smiling, ill though he felt. Nonetheless, he was glad when Radagast eased him into his night-shirt and helped him crawl beneath the blankets. It was a great feather-mattress, and great feather-pillows to match, and he was not at all sorry when Radagast propped him at a gentle reclining angle and tucked the sheet and quilt over him.

"I have other quilts if you still feel chilled," he said, "but you have taken fever, and soon you may feel warmer than you like. I shall go prepare your medicine now, and if you have need of help, call, and one of us shall come to you."

"Thank you." Frodo settled back and watched what would have been altogether a pleasant scene, and very comfortable, had he not been ill: Sam, seated on a stool, wiping down mushrooms, while Gandalf sliced them into bite-sized pieces. Sam was deft and skilled; like most hobbits, he was well-practised in it. Radagast puttered about with some shelves Frodo had not noticed before; they held all manner of bottles and vials and jars, some with colourful syrups and elixirs, some with dried and fresh herbs. He took two bottles and a small vial to his work-table and set them down, then began filling small medicine-glasses and setting them on a tray, along with a dropper. At last he carried the tray to the bed and set it on a table which stood close at hand.

"These should not taste too unpleasant," he said, "and they are sweetened with honey and such elixirs of fruit as I thought suitable. Tell me, though, if you desire water afterward." He held up a smooth wooden spoon, poured the contents of a small glass into it, and touched it to Frodo's lips with a hand perfectly steady.

Frodo swallowed. It did taste sweet, and had notes of cherry in it, and herbs. Surprisingly, it seemed to soothe rather than irritate his scratchy, aching throat.

"That one will ease the pain in your throat," said Radagast, pouring another spoonful of syrup, "And this is for your chest, for I fear you may need it, and it will not harm you if all goes better than I fear."

Frodo swallowed again, and this too seemed to coat rather than irritate his throat. It tasted of some sort of berry flavor, though he could not have said exactly what.

"When we prepare you a hot drink, I shall give you tincture of meadowsweet," said Radagast. "That I will use a dropper for, for you are a little fellow, and so need only a little medicine."

Frodo could not help but smile, though a cough tickled his throat, and came out, only just giving him enough warning to press his handkerchief to his lips to cover his mouth. He coughed for a moment, a dry and irritating cough which only served to make his throat feel worse. Radagast reached behind him and rubbed his back gently.

"There, little fellow," he said. "I am rather appalled that anyone would let you set out on such a journey. This has been building for some days, hasn't it?"

Frodo considered. He had thought himself well enough when they set out from Minas Tirith, and when they had camped along the way, and when they had been at Grimbeorn's. But at Grimbeorn's he had occasionally noticed some aching in his head, and now and then his back, and those he had attributed to his growing less accustomed to serious foot-travel while in Minas Tirith. If he occasionally felt chilly, then it had not been cause for concern, for often he felt chilly since his wound last October. It was hardly uncommon, though it had seemed to occur more than usual since they left Grimbeorn's lands, some days earlier.

"I did not recognise it," he said. "I didn't think I was really ill."

"Well, you certainly are now!" said Radagast. "We had better keep you in bed, at least until your fever breaks. Now, rest for a while, and I will go and help with supper. Come, Sam," he called, "you can help me gather some eggs from my hens."

"Since when do you have hens here?" asked Gandalf, looking up.

"Since the Lady Galadriel came," said Radagast. "It is so much improved here - I went and brought a few from Lake-town. They're quite happy here, if I may say so."

Frodo watched as Sam and Radagast went out a back door. Gandalf finished cutting up mushrooms and came to the bed, where he sat facing Frodo.

"Radagast knows much about healing, doesn't he?" asked Frodo, coughing again.

Gandalf looked concerned. "He does," he said, "but all the same, I wish we could have reached the elves. I saw how soothing an influence Arwen had on you, and Elrond, when they came to Minas Tirith."

"They did help," said Frodo, "a great deal. But Radagast, well - he - reminds me of you, and that makes me feel better somehow. And he is kind, and gentle."

"That he is to all small living things," said Gandalf, "and while I know that hobbits do not always consider themselves small, you are not much larger than one of his rabbits, and still less fat than one of them."

"I don't know if I can eat anything," said Frodo miserably. "Not tonight."

"We can make you an egg and mushroom dish that should slide down easily," said Gandalf. "We will see what Radagast has to offer, but I am sure of eggs and mushrooms at least, and no doubt some seasonings."

"I just want to sleep," said Frodo, "if I can."

"Close your eyes," said Gandalf, patting his hand. "One of us will wake you when it is time for food."

"Don't bother," murmured Frodo, closing his eyes. Almost at once he slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-to be continued-


	3. Chapter 3: The Hedgehog

Title: The Visit

Author: Frodo Baggins of Bag End (FrodoAtBagEnd/FBoBE/"Febobe")

E-mail: febobe at yahoo dot com

Characters: Frodo, Radagast, various others in cameos or secondary roles, including Samwise, Gandalf, Legolas, Thranduil, OC female elven healer (Aduial).

Rating: T for painful and vivid PTSD symptoms as well as memories of violence. Follows FrodoHealers standards - no sexual content, no slashiness, no profanity.

Warnings: Some angst and medical detail. No profanity or sexual content, slash or het. May include memories of violence. No character death or suicidal ideation.

Summary: Following the Quest, Frodo reluctantly consents to visit Legolas's home...but the planned excursion goes horribly wrong when Frodo becomes ill along the way. Appearances by Radagast, Thranduil, and others, including an OC female elven healer (who is NOT Tauriel).

Feedback: Reviews are welcome, but (a) no flaming, please – flames will be used to warm Frodo's chilled body, and (b) I do this as a hobby, for pleasure, so before you take me to task about whether something "isn't canon" or "doesn't feel thematic" or how I left out a comma in paragraph 7 or made a typo in paragraph 3, please ask yourself whether that's really helpful. I'm not interested in being a canon purist or perfect – if I were, I wouldn't write this kind of thing; I'd just leave Frodo alone. In short – if you want to tell me you liked it, by all means, tell me, but if you just want to tell me how much better you would write Frodo, then go write your own stories with Frodo. (And if they're Frodo h/c, and suitable, by all means submit them to FrodoHealers. 😉 We could use some activity over there!)

Story Notes: If you didn't like Radagast in the Peter Jackson Hobbit films, you probably won't like him here. You have been warned! ;)

For permission to reproduce any part of this fanfic, please contact Febobe.

DISCLAIMER: The characters, places, and story of The Lord of the Rings are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and consequently of the Tolkien Estate, with select rights by Tolkien Enterprises. This piece appears purely as fanfiction and is not intended to claim ownership of Tolkien's work in any way. Please e-mail me if you have concerns. Original characters, such as (but not limited to) Lossmeril, are my own work; please do not use my creations in your work. Please respect my original contributions. Furthermore, please do NOT consider any treatments or remedies within this story safe or effective for use: these are included as fictitious hobbit care, not real human medical practice, and while some can indeed be traced to actual therapeutic practices, could be dangerous. Please consult your health care professional before treating yourself or others for any condition or symptom. No slash is intended or implied in this story.

THE VISIT

Chapter 3: The Hedgehog

"Frodo. Frodo, wake up."

Frodo stirred drowsily. Gandalf was at his bedside, gently patting his arm. For all Frodo's nose was so stuffy, he could vaguely smell mushrooms cooking.

"Is it late?" he asked, yawning and bursting into a cough.

"Not very," said Gandalf, "but late for someone who is very ill. You need to eat, and Radagast has cooked a fine supper, one I think will suit you well."

Sam came over, carrying a plate, which he handed up to Gandalf. "Did you have a nice sleep, sir?" he asked.

Frodo thought for a moment. He had slept uneasily and did not feel at all refreshed. Everything ached, muscles and joints, and he felt shaky with chilliness, but at the same time feverish. His nose was stuffier than ever, and his chest felt sore. His throat hurt even more.

"It's a comfortable bed," he said hoarsely. "But I feel even worse."

"You have pneumonia," said Radagast, coming to the bed. "It is natural. Give it time." He waved a hand of long fingers at the others. "Go on. Eat! I shall feed Frodo."

The others protested, but Radagast insisted, and soon enough Frodo found himself cradled in the crook of Radagast's arm, resting against his chest, as the wizard fed him with a spoon. It was, in fact, rather a good meal even to Frodo, who desperately wished that his nose had not been so stuffy nor his throat so sore. Even swallowing soft foods was painful. But Radagast coaxed scrambled eggs cooked in butter down him, and creamed mushrooms over toast, offering sips of a sharp yet sweet raspberry drink to wash the meal down.

"Raspberries are good for fevers in little ones," Radagast said, "and you are too thin."

Frodo felt painfully aware that he was still too thin. He had been reasonably well-fed and gaining in weight when they left Minas Tirith and Rohan, but along the way he had begun to feel less and less like eating the food of travel. He had been spoiled in Minas Tirith, where they had had a proper little house with a kitchen, and where cooking seemed to bring Sam more joy than anything else. Travel no longer seemed as pleasant as it once had, for every step once weariness set in seemed to call forth old shadows and old memories, and the last two hours of every day seemed to be taken up by fighting off old pains, painful memories. But he did not dare speak of it to anyone. Legolas had been so excited to introduce Bilbo's heir to his father.

"There is much pain in your eyes," said Radagast, lowering his voice kindly, "and I deem it comes not only from your sore throat or aching body, but from deep within you."

Frodo glanced away to make sure Sam and Gandalf were busy with supper, then nodded.

"When you feel a little better, I will see what can be done about that," said Radagast. "But for now, you need only rest. This is not the Road of your past year. There is no urgency."

"I need to get back to Rivendell before winter comes," said Frodo, "and I cannot begin to think how I will manage it."

"There are ways," said Radagast, "and while I cannot take your whole party thus, I would be happy to take you myself, on my sled. You are quite a little fellow, and I imagine you would fit quite nicely, all tucked up with furs and warm blankets to keep you cosy. We could be there within a few days."

"I could not leave my friends behind," said Frodo longingly. The thought of actually travelling with Radagast and his Rhosgobel rabbits was exciting, but he did not wish to be rude.

Radagast smiled. "I think they will love the idea of getting you to Lord Elrond's house more quickly," he said. "First we must nurse you through the pneumonia, and get you through your visit to Thranduil's realm. Then I shall tuck you up and take you to the finest healer that can be found, in Rivendell. You must get well enough to travel, but I will help you, and I know Thranduil's folk will have much of healing to offer you. They *are* elves, after all, my little friend."

Frodo could not help smiling. Radagast had such a calming way about him. He did his best to swallow what the wizard fed him, though gradually he began to feel too full to continue. He did not have to tell Radagast, however - the wizard seemed to discern that much, and slowed his pace.

"Have you had all you can manage?" he asked gently. "If you wish for more later, I will be happy to make you something. And perhaps tomorrow we can make a soup for you. Hot broth will do you good."

Frodo coughed weakly. Radagast set the dish aside and rose, returning with cloths and a basin. Setting it down, he wrung out a compress and laid it across Frodo's brow. It was pleasantly warm and damp, cool enough to be soothing but warm enough to avoid chilling him further.

"I will make you a cup of chamomile tea with a bit of catnip," said Radagast. "And I will sit by you tonight, and watch over your sleep."

"I'll be all right," said Frodo. "I'll try to sleep."

Radagast looked at him gravely. "I know you will try, little friend," he said, "but you are very ill. You need someone to nurse you through the night. That is what I can do for you."

"Thank you. I - I am sorry to arrive sick and useless."

Radagast shook his head. "Oh, you are the farthest thing from useless, Frodo Baggins. What use is the hedgehog? Yet he may be the dearest of friends. And you have done far more than any of the hedgehogs I have known, valiant though they are. I think you have more than earned the right to rest." He lowered his voice. "I do not think Prince Legolas understands what he has asked of you. It is not his fault that he does not understand, but for all his kind nature, he is of the Firstborn, and sometimes he forgets that others do not heal so swiftly or so completely."

"Legolas has proven himself many times over," said Frodo.

"Indeed," said Radagast, "yet even so, he is not without his weaknesses. I think he understands now, and no doubt he will make amends as best he can. But for now, you are better off here. Rest."

-to be continued-


End file.
